


Aftershock

by glasgow_blue



Category: The Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-06-20
Updated: 2004-06-20
Packaged: 2018-09-15 07:40:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9225254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glasgow_blue/pseuds/glasgow_blue





	

This is not a Blue Plate Special.

It is for [](http://queenofalostart.livejournal.com/profile)[**queenofalostart**](http://queenofalostart.livejournal.com/) , who dared me to try the [](http://postcoital.livejournal.com/profile)[**postcoital**](http://postcoital.livejournal.com/) challenge a while back.

Title: Aftershock  
Word Count: 413  
Disclaimer: I. Am. Making. This. Shit. Up.

Billy is wide-awake, counting the cracks in the ceiling. He's already crept out of bed once to the loo and again to take a wander through Dom's kitchen. Wondering all the while what the protocol is for such days.

This would be easier if Dom were a girl. You make girls breakfast, bring it to them in bed. Coffee. Juice. A flower pinched from the neighbor's planter. Chicks, as Elijah says, dig that stuff. But Dom's neighbors are musicians and there are only empty bottles and rotting lawn furniture to choose from. Plus, Dom is not a girl.

And neither is Billy. Somewhere in Glasgow, Pastor MacDougal is having a coronary. Buggery, after all, is a sin.

Except, it didn't _feel_ sinful.

Billy gives up on the cracks, steals a quick glance at Dom's chest as it rises and falls, and catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror. There is a growing splotch of purple and green on his forehead, just above the left eye.

 _Yeah. About that, Pete. Dom and I had our first go at it last night and I wish I could tell you that it was from the headboard but I…ah…tripped over my own pants and cracked it on the dresser and then we just did it on the floor because it was easier that way. Dom's got rug burns, if you need to verify._ He's got some rug burns of his own, too.

Vaguely, Billy wonders if he might have a concussion.

He looks at Dom again, taking in the slack jaw, the bed hair, the curve of fingers against the sheets and wishes it were Sunday. The alarm's going to ring in six minutes. There will be showers and coffee and a car will arrive to take them to the set. Astin and Elijah will be dozing in back--Dom's place is the last stop. Explanations, maybe.

 _Yes, my arse hurts. No, I'm not gay. Aye, there's a reason you smell baby oil, punter._ I think I might be in love.

He wonders about the concussion again.

Billy closes his eyes. Screws them shut, willing sleep. If they could sleep through the alarm, it would be like Sunday. Phones could be unplugged. Mobiles turned off. Car horns ignored. Sorry, Pete, must've been some freakish blackout.

But Dom's awake suddenly; sitting up and giving a mighty stretch. Billy hears the click of the alarm being turned off and opens one eye.

"You and me, Bills," he says.


End file.
